


Panicked

by nothfan



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Gil Arroyo is Malcolm Bright's Parent, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26212561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothfan/pseuds/nothfan
Summary: After the successful closing of another case Malcolm doesn’t cope well with his down time. As the title suggests Malcolm has a panic attack, so please don’t read if this subject matter is likely to be a trigger subject for you.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	Panicked

Prodigal Son: Panicked

Detective Dani Powell took the extra minutes to find a parking spot close to the precinct, winter in New York not being her favorite season. Still no snow in late October, but it was turning colder. Dani had preempted it, digging out her winter coat, but only fastened a couple of buttons so far, not quite willing to give up the last autumn remnants too soon. Monday mornings weren’t exactly on her favourites list either, not that she’d had the weekend off. 

The case they’d been working on previously finished up on Friday, so her weekend was spent on paperwork. And listening to a very weird conversation with JT, on the merits of parenting books. He favored reading a multitude, while Tally, apparently, wanted to go down the natural route of winging it. JT was freaking out. The lieutenant had a well deserved weekend off, to visit his folks. Lucky Gil, Dani snorted to herself.

As Dani arrived in the office, she saw JT striding towards her.

“We’ve got a suspicious death over in Tribeca, have you heard from Bright?” he asked as he reached her desk, waiting for her to get her coat off.

“I’d have expected him to be annoying the hell out of us for a case, well before now.”

Dani sat down at her computer, checking work emails, multitasking as she got out her phone. She’d not heard from Bright since Saturday morning, he’d texted reminding her he was available if a case came up. Like she actually needed a back up call on that, she smirked.

“Not since Saturday, why?”

Tarmel shrugged. "He’s not picking up, I’ve left a message. Gil should be in soon, I’ll go get the coffee in. Meet you in the conference room.” 

“I’ll call Bright, maybe you said something to upset him last week,” Dani said, grinning in response to JT’s glower.

****

Bright was in discomfort, a multitude of discomfort, from the weight on his chest, the lack of air in his lungs. Stiff limbs complained, and he briefly wondered why he hadn’t picked somewhere more comfortable, like the couch or his bed, to have this heart attack. He guessed there was probably a valid reason why he’d opted for the most uncomfortable place in the loft, but that logic escaped him. Logic also butted in to suggest it wasn’t a heart attack at all, not the correct symptoms? Unfortunately his brain couldn’t pinpoint where he’d stored said information. Lack of oxygen to his brain? Possibly. Maybe better to concentrate on breathing for the moment. 

He did his best to straighten up a bit, leaning back against the counter, catching a glimpse of a chair out of the corner of his eye. It’d be nice to sit in that chair, but his limbs were unresponsive. He took a tentative shallow breath, not wanting to disturb the weight settled on his chest. Okay, that’s it, breathe, in and out...you’re doing it wrong! You’re breathing up and down, how you gonna get enough oxygen that way, idiot, he chastised himself.

He placed a hand on his chest and tried again. In and out, it’s not that difficult… how can you’ve forgotten? But it was no good, he gasped for air, lightheaded, his eyes rolled back. Damn, maybe it was time to call someone. Why hadn’t that occurred to him sooner, and unbidden one of Gil’s many lectures rose. The "You’re not alone, call me, call the team, we’re here for you," yep, that one. If he ended up brain dead, Gil was so gonna kick his ass. Where’s that goddamn phone? He ignored his rasping breath, forcing himself to check his pockets. Nope, nothing. He expanded his glance and scanned his partial view of the room, finding the phone, well, the bits of his phone. Someone had smashed it, how the hell’d that happen? The panic rose further, and his eyes drifted shut as he lost consciousness.

Some hours earlier

The elation, the high from solving the case didn’t last much past Saturday mid-morning, before he’d shot Dani Powell a pleading message. To call him if anything came in, but for a weekend in NYC it had been an apparently slow one. So he’d not gotten the hoped for call. Just one less desirable call, an invite, who was he kidding, a demand that he join his mother and Ainsley for dinner. Being forced to endure a three course meal and inquisition from his mom hadn’t done anything to improve his mood. Neither had his usual sleepless night, though it was nothing out of the ordinary, he’d take it in his stride. As always, and then there’d be another case, problem solved. 

Why was it that Bright never noticed what was staring him right in the face, well until it was too late? Okay, that needed amending, if he was tuned into a case, his analytical mind went into overdrive. He saw the big picture, as well as all the smaller components that led to a solid profile, contributing his part to solving the case. His own well-being not so much, he only saw the big picture there.

He had his routines, his meds, yoga and affirmation cards. He even had Sunshine, the parakeet. Gabrielle had told him many years ago that having something to care for would be beneficial. And she was right, having his little bird, caring for her, was a good feeling. Not too high maintenance, and loving in her own little ways. Sunshine’s feelings were reciprocated. 

It was the smaller things he didn’t always pick up on, or outright ignored, as not important. So on Sunday morning after tossing down his meds and ripping up a less than helpful affirmation card, he went to say good morning to Sunshine, fed her and let her out to play for a while. 

It could take a while for his anxiety meds to kick in, to chase the remnants of the night terrors away. So he spent an hour on his yoga routine. That usually helped set him up for the day, so he really should have noticed the lingering sense of unease that grew. The mood shift into the negative, Sunshine’s trilling oppressive, the silence in the loft even more so. Trying music he usually found soothing, turning it on and off. 

He dealt poorly fielding a call from his mother, finding her interfering, insufferable, telling her so. An equally angry tirade from her and he’d hung up. Dejected, he spent a long time in the shower and slowly dressed. Wearing a suit, even though he wasn’t going anywhere, unless one of the detectives called. Covering his insecurities in an expensive three piece suit, usually helped paper over the cracks in his faltering psyche. Not that there was a problem, Gil would be home tomorrow and Monday was bound to bring a murder or two. 

He spent the rest of the day wandering around the loft, looking for distractions, finding none. Feeling too edgy to sit, he walked the streets for...hours? At length he ended up back home, sitting at the counter nursing a large glass of whiskey. Another poor choice, the effects making him more maudlin. Twisting the chunky cut-glass tumbler in one hand, staring blankly at the rippling liquid.

His phone rang and he stabbed to reject the call from his sister, not wanting a lecture about upsetting his mother. Ainsley proved persistent, the noise of his phone ground his nerves, at breaking point he threw it at the wall and watched it break into several bits, satisfaction rose briefly but ebbed away just as quickly. Abandoning the alcohol he drifted over to the living room and turned the television on, muting the sound. With far more effort than it should have taken he eased down onto the couch, sprawled full length. Staring at the flickering images on the tv screen, tears streamed down his face. Squeezing his eyes shut, numb. Nightmare images crowded in, memories he wanted to forget? To remember? Eyes flying open, needing the images to stop, a sob wracked his body. He turned his face to the back of the couch, wept until he fell into a fitful sleep.

The loft was in darkness when he jerked awake, the only light coming through his large window by the bed. Something was wrong? Or was it just the after effects of a night terror? A sense of urgency, of panic, why was he having difficulty breathing? Bright told himself to get a grip, get up and fetch some water...take his meds. Calm down. Solid advice. 

He dragged himself up and over to the refrigerator, snatched a bottle of water, snapping the top off. He drank deeply, then a coughing fit overtook as he staggered to the counter. Sinking onto a stool, blinking at the neatly lined up med bottles. Taking shallow ragged breaths as an oppressive weight pressed on his chest, heart hammering much too loudly. With a final sad look at the bottles he slid off the stool, knocking it out of his way. His legs felt weak, couldn’t support his weight as he crumpled to the floor. Back against the counter, legs stretched out, Bright gasped for breath as his whole body shook. Bright closed his eyes, hoped whatever was happening would hurry up and be over. 

****

The first things Bright noticed were that he was no longer on the cold hard floor, and he could breathe again. He tried to focus on the familiar voice, and a welcome, familiar scent. Gil, he finally put together.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked tiredly, attempting to bat hands away from his throat.

“Hey,” Arroyo reprimanded gently as he unbuttoned Malcolm’s shirt collar, loosened and removed the tie. “Picking your sorry ass up off the floor kid, you had a panic attack… how're you feeling now?” he said with concern, propping Bright up against the pillows, settling him gently.

“Tired, got a headache,” Bright almost kept the whine out of his voice, but as he relaxed the shakes set in. “I’m cold,” he said forlornly.

Arroyo eased the covers around Malcolm, tucking him in before going to the foot of the bed, opening the chest to fetch a throw. Adding the extra layer of warmth.

“I’ll get something to warn you up kid,” he said, crossing to the kitchen.

Bright’s stomach roiled at the thought of food. "Coffee?” he asked hopefully.

Gil returned with a mug of hot soup, forced it into the younger man’s hands, ignoring the complaints about not being able to eat. Made him drink the hot liquid, finding a space beside Malcolm Gil sat,

“What happened?” he asked quietly, attention focused on the young man.

Bright shrugged, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable at the same time,  
“had an episode I guess.”

“Y’think?” A hint of exasperation, not aimed at the kid’s mental health issues, just his failure to reach out. A conversation they’d had many times over the twenty years Arroyo had known him.

Deflecting, Bright said,"not that I’m complaining but what brought you over?”

“There’s a case, JT and Dani have been trying to call you in, what happened to your phone?” 

The mention of a case brought a little colour to his cheeks, which faded under Gil’s questioning frown. “It broke,” he said, looking down at his hands.

“Next time I go away, you’ll be coming with me or I’ll leave you in Jess’s hands,” Arroyo said with finality.

“Gil!” Bright pouted, “I’m not a child, I can take care...” he thought better of finishing that claim, changing the subject, “We’ve got a case you said?” 

“We have, you’re staying in bed kid.” 

“I thought the team needed me? And I don’t think staying here alone is gonna be good for me,” he forced a smile.

Not taken in for a second, Arroyo studied the young man, noting his pale complexion, but he was no longer shaking. Weighing up the options, should he cut the kid some slack, it probably wasn’t a good idea leaving him to his own devices. 

“You stay in bed the rest of the morning, I’ll call you at lunch time and if you’re feeling better you can come in. I’ll send Dani to fetch you, but you’ll be staying in the office so I can keep my eye on you, send you for a nap in my office if I think you need it. Agreed?”

Bright knew this was the best deal he was likely to get. 

“Yes,” he said quickly, before Gil had a change of heart, then fidgeted under the stern look turned on him. Gil wanted more?

“Yes sir, I’ll stay in bed, try to sleep, until you call me in,” he promised.

Arroyo reached out and rubbed the young man’s neck before patting his shoulder, satisfied.

“I’ll make you some tea and then I’ll be off kid, I’ll see you later.” 

Bright nodded as he sank into the warm cocoon of blankets, watching Gil as he pottered in the kitchen making tea and clearing up the mess of broken phone bits. His eyes had fluttered shut before his mentor, his surrogate father returned with his tea.


End file.
